Richard L. Matta
Imprints
We’re in my library. She highlights the day with a red marker from her school bag. Pulls my fingers to get my attention, wants to play with the fingerprint kit I keep in my cabinet. All I see are forensics textbooks, their overcoats side-by-side on oak shelves. Their pages speak of criminalistics: the forensics in fingerprints, fibers—all forming a language of their own. Slashes and bullets. Blood spatter diagrams. Before bed, she asks about monsters, like the ones in fairy tales. They’re make believe, I assure her, just something in books.
all-night vigil
a wolf’s face
forms in fog
About the Author
Richard L. Matta grew up in New York’s Hudson Valley, attended university, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego. Some of his haiku, tanka and haibun are in Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Akitsu Quarterly, Bottle Rockets, and Presence. His long-form poetry is found in various journals, including Gyroscope, Dewdrop, Ancients Path, and Healing Muse.